Uneasy Times
by Kyralian
Summary: I pick up the story the first day in Sachaka. What would have happened if Akkarin hadn't overtaken Parika.
1. Dangerous Road

**Disclaimer: Black Magician trilogy belongs to Trudi Canavan**

The only warning she had was a faint scattering of rocks on the path behind her. Certain that it was Akkarin catching up with her at last, she sighed in relief and turned around. But it wasn't him and her blood turned to ice.

_Akkarin! _

Sonea shouted in her mind, her panic caused her to project her thoughts louder than usual, and the man before her chuckled as he heard her.

"Ah, Akkarin's apprentice," his leer became more pronounced. Suddenly, Sonea felt powerful magic surround her, binding her arms to her sides and pushing her forward. "You're quite a darling," he scanned her appreciatively and licked his lips obscenely. "Yes, Karriko will have to do with your master. I deserve a perk for all the trouble I went to looking for you."

As he grabbed her, his large dirty hands groping under her clothes, Sonea struggled. It was to no avail, however, he was too strong for her and his magic was making her harmless. Dread and panic rising, Sonea searched her thoughts for some way out of this nightmare, but her mind was blank. The only thoughts in her head were her panic and despair that Akkarin would die now because of her incompetence. _No! It can't end like this!_

_Fight him!_

Akkarin's mind voice was commanding and seemingly unemotional, but Sonea detected an undercurrent of dread in his projected thoughts.

_How? He's too strong!_

Sonea couldn't concentrate on Akkarin's orders with the Ichani's foul breath in her face.

_With magic, Sonea!_

_Oh._

His incredulous and angry retort was a stimulant enough to bring her back from the verge of despair. She created a shield around herself and pushed the Ichani back. He was too busy exploring her undergarments to pay any attention to her exchange with Akkarin, so he didn't expect her to show any resistance now. He glared at her with disdain and eager cruelty.

"You wish to battle _me_, wench?" he sneered and assaulted her with powerful strikes. Sonea retaliated with her own barrage, but even as she did she knew she would fail. Her magical strength was dwindling at a frightening pace. The Ichani chuckled as he watched her shield weaken and crumble away. "What a pathetic thing you are!" Sonea sagged against the stone wall, exhausted, her breaths coming in gasps. "A Guild magician indeed!"

The Ichani approached her again, confident that she wouldn't cause him any more trouble. She was barely managing to escape unconsciousness. He dragged her towards him, his eager hands tearing her shirt. The last surge of adrenaline gave Sonea enough energy to kick him in the bend of the knee. She threw him off and backed away before he had time to collect himself. She didn't make it far, however. After few shaky steps she encountered a barrier. Sonea turned around and met the gaze of the Sachakan man. His eyes sparkled with loathing, and she instantly understood his intentions. A flicker of silver caught her eye, she glanced at his hand and her heart sank. The Ichani was holding a glittering silver dagger. Sonea knew he wouldn't stop to play this time. It was over.

**What do you think?**


	2. Speculation

**Disclaimer: Black Magician trilogy belongs to Trudi Canavan**

_All magicians listen to me!_

Rothen froze, his hand outstretched toward the sumi utensils. He blinked in surprise at Lorlen's mental voice.

_All mental communication must cease from now on, unless in an emergency. If you are unable to avoid conversing in this way, be mindful of what you reveal. If you hear another magician communicating mentally, please inform him or her of this restriction._

"Well," Dannyl said after a moment. "I have to say it, considering what you've set out to do, but every day I grow more worried."

"Of what?"

"That what Akkarin told us is the truth."

Rothen shook his head.

"No, it was Akkarin's trick. A way to escape with Sonea in tow."

Dannyl whistled, deep in thought.

"Sonea believed him. Do you think she could be fooled?"

The older magician grimaced at those words. He knew only too well how hard it was to persuade Sonea to change her mind about anything.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But hadn't he managed to deceive us all for years?"

Dannyl nodded and sipped some sumi before replying.

"He certainly had, and yet," he paused, choosing his words with care. "It seems too easy to explain Sonea's behavior; abandoning her family, the guild, you, and going into exile in a foreign land with a man that she, until recently, believed to be her enemy. No, there is more to it. Oh!" his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Do you think Sonea might be in love with Akkarin?"

Rothen turned pale and then tomato red as he comprehended Dannyl's insinuation. He glared at his ex-novice.

"No! She hated him!"

Dannyl rolled his eyes.

"The past tense is most appropriate here, my friend."

He stood up.

"Come to the Night Club with me," he offered. "I think I'll need help warding off awkward questions."

Rothen snorted, disbelieving, but allowed himself be herded out of his rooms.

**Thank you for the first reviews. I'm glad you like it so far. **** I think this story will keep my writing skills well-honed. And that's just as well since my English suffered greatly from disuse. I'll try to update as often as possible, but I'm afraid they'll all be short. I'll keep it to one POV per chapter. This one is very short – only building up an atmosphere.**


	3. Justice Costs Dear

**Disclaimer: Black Magician trilogy belongs to Trudi Canavan**

Lorlen rubbed his eyes wearily. The meeting with the king dragged on for hours and he would love to slip away to his living quarters, as other Higher Magicians had done. Alas, he couldn't deprive his fellow magicians of a chance to speak with him in this time of unrest. Wishing he could be an Administrator in an easier epoch, he made his slow way to the Night Club. The room was filled with magicians. Their anxious voices created an eerie cacophony that made his flesh creep. They were frightened by his new edict.

"Administrator!" Ambassador Dannyl was the first to notice him pause at the threshold. Lorlen smiled tiredly and made his way to his customary seat.

"Good evening, Ambassador," Lorlen said, nodded to other magicians who greeted him, and sank into a chair with a heavy sigh.

"Administrator Lorlen, what happened this morning? Why did you ban mental communication?" Lord Yhkmo didn't allow time for idle chatter.

He sighed.

"Earlier today, when Lord Osen communicated to me that Akkarin and Sonea had crossed the border, another magician was eavesdropping to our conversation. We should consider the possibility that our past communications had been overheard as well."

The magicians stared back at him in shock and disbelief.

"What did they say?" Lord Rothen asked after a tense and loaded silence.

Lorlen met his gaze as he recounted the unpleasant experience. He was trying to tell the story in as unthreatening a manner as possible, but he could see from the grave faces of all the magicians around him that their understanding of it mirrored his.

After Lorlen's troubling news the conversation in the Night Room was slow and subdued. The possibility that the Guild through its over-confidence and carelessness had fallen victim to espionage of unknown and unfriendly parties distressed them deeply. Lorlen rose to his feet and yawned. He hadn't slept properly in days. Tonight wouldn't be any easier. Maybe he should ask Lady Vinara for a sleeping drug…

_Akkarin!_

A mental voice and an image that came with it froze him in place. The room around him fell silent as the magicians recognized the voice and understood the significance.

"Sonea!" Rothen croaked. "He left her alone!"

Lorlen concentrated on Sonea's projected thoughts. Her fear and panic were painful to endure. Lorlen wondered if she even realised that she was projecting her ordeal for all to witness.

"Is that an Ichani," Lady Indria inquired in a timid voice. She winced as the Sachakan's intentions became clear.

"They must have separated to lose pursuit," Lord Yhkmo concluded grimly. "Akkarin must be dead already."

_That was very likely, _Lorlen thought with a pang of sadness. He would try to help her if he was alive.

Sonea's fear was making her unreasonable, she couldn't bring herself to react effectively.

"Why doesn't she fight back?" Rothen's question was strangled.

_Fight him!_

Akkarin's command was like a lash of a whip. Lorlen jumped and so did several of his colleagues. It was a voice of pure rage. Fury at his failure. Failure at protecting Sonea.

_How? He's too strong!_

Lorlen blinked, _How? What does she mean?_

_With magic, Sonea!_

_Oh!_

Lorlen chuckled nervously. Akkarin's mental voice was annoyed, amused and fond all at the same time. And Sonea's embarrassed realization added humour to the exchange. But the situation wasn't humorous. The Ichani scoffed at Sonea's attempts to fight him. Lorlen disregarded it at first. He knew Sonea was an exceptionally powerful magician, and in addition to the power she had gained by killing a Sachakan woman in Imardin she must be a serious threat even to another black magician. He watched the battle unfold, and with every strike that felt like a hammering of a battering ram he grew colder. Sonea's terror and exhaustion washed over his mind like icy shower.

"How can anyone hold so much power!" someone wondered in terrified fascination.

Sonea was defeated within minutes. She was too tired to even stand straight.

"Not again!" Rothen moaned, catching his head in his hands as if he wanted to make the images go away. Lorlen knew he would endure it no matter what the finale would be. He owed it to Akkarin and Sonea. He would bear witness before the king so that the monarch understood the consequences of his cruel verdict.

He sucked in a startled breath as she kicked the Ichani.

"That's my slum girl!" Lord Yhkmo crowed in delight.

And yet they all knew that Sonea's bold efforts wouldn't save her. They had been foolish and sent two people to their deaths under the excuse of justice. The last thought Sonea shared with Akkarin, and through him with all the guild, was an image of a crescent-shaped silver dagger with a jeweled handle. Then all was silent.


	4. Feelings and Words

**Disclaimer: Black Magician trilogy belongs to Trudi Canavan**

"Sonea!"

Sonea looked up. She could see a blurred figure in the distance. He blinked in and out of existence as her vision failed. Was he a mirage brought by her failing mind? She couldn't say. She swayed alarmingly, and then she felt her mind slipping away, enveloped by suffocating blackness.

There was no sense of time passing. Was it minutes or hours or eternity? Sonea couldn't throw off the manacles of unconsciousness, but they weren't unpleasant, like drifting in warm and fuzzy water. The first change was a sensation of an electric current surging through her veins. Healing energy, she realized. She inhaled his scent. He was so close, his strong arms embraced her tightly.

"Did we die, then?" She whispered, her voice muffled by his shirt.

Akkarin chuckled, his relief was tangible.

"Almost," he answered.

Sonea opened her eyes and looked at him closely. His face was taut with uncertainty and worry but there was a twinkle in his eyes. He was holding her and it was impossible not to find that distracting. Her blood boiled in her veins. She couldn't tear her eyes from his. She couldn't fool herself anymore, she was in love with him. Afraid that he would sense her attraction to him, Sonea sighed and tried to disengage herself from his embrace, but he tightened his grip on her.

"I thought I'd lost you," he sighed. His face twisted in pain.

Surprised, Sonea touched his face.

"I'm fine, Akkarin," there was such a strange expression on his face. It was so… tender? She let her mind expand and touch his, trying to understand his behavior.

She saw a face; glowing and beautiful. It was her face, but it was unlike any reflection she had ever seen. _That is how he sees me, _she realized with a jolt of surprise. She smiled. His eyes became wary as he sensed her mental touch. He put on the same aloof and distant expression he had worn as High Lord.

His arms fell away and he stepped out of her reach giving her a better view of the ledge behind him. Her eyes widened as she beheld the prone figure of the Ichani who had hurt her. Her smile faded.

"I really killed him!" she realized, her tone incredulous.

"Yes, you did," he retorted in a clipped voice.

Obviously, he was annoyed at her. Surprised, Sonea narrowed her eyes. His mood swings were so strange it was becoming irritating.

"What!" she demanded.

"Why didn't you drain him of power? Did you think Sachaka needs another wasteland?" he asked sarcastically.

Sonea stared at him as understanding dawned.

"Oh," she gasped and looked at the corpse again. "I forgot," she admitted sheepishly. "I guess I proved to be more trouble than help on this venture. I'm sorry."

Akkarin snorted with amusement.

"Don't apologise," he chuckled. "I just think we should present the offer officially in Arvice before we take such extreme measures to alter their landscape."

Sonea blinked. Was he making fun of her?

"We need to get out of here," Akkarin went back to business before she could come up with a witty response. "Your show was very impressive, but it gave our whereabouts away. I'm certain the second Ichani is on her way, and we know she has a yeel. That's going to be a problem."

Sonea gasped and hid her face in her hands.

"I was stupid," she moaned. "I panicked and didn't even notice I was projecting until he brought out his knife."

Akkarin sighed.

"Come," he said, and outstretched his arm to her. "We'll go higher up."

She took his elbow and they levitated over the deep ravines. Finally, they settled in a shallow hollow in the rock face which gave them a wide view of a surrounding area and at the same time hid them from anyone's eyes. They would see the Ichani woman approaching well in advance.

"So," Sonea curled up on the ground beside Akkarin and wrapped her hands around her knees. "Now, we wait."

"Yes, you're tired anyway," he looked sideways at her. "Go to sleep."

Sonea shook her head.

"Are you afraid you'll have a nightmare?" he guessed.

She shuddered. That was admission enough.

Akkarin sighed.

"Would you tell me how you killed him?" he asked softly.

Sonea looked at him, bewildered.

"He didn't know healing," she said, still shocked at that realization.

Akkarin smiled faintly.

"Ah, so you stopped his heart," he guessed.

She nodded.

They sat in silence for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Akkarin burst out laughing. Sonea watched him shaking in bouts of mirth, bewildered.

"What's so funny?"

"You have just ruined the Guild's clever schemes," he explained.

Her eyebrows rose in confusion.

"I doubt they bothered to uphold the rules of courtesy when you called me," he smiled at her.

Sonea's eyes grew wide in horror.

"They were watching, too?"

"I'm certain of it," he said.

She looked at the road below them, thinking.

"So, they know now."

"Yes," he sighed. "They know."

Sonea thought of Rothen. He knew for certain that Akkarin had been telling the truth. She hoped that he would understand why she had made such choices and would forgive her now. Thinking back, she couldn't see any other way. She couldn't turn a blind eye to reality. She learned Black Magic to protect Kyralia. And she followed Akkarin into exile because she couldn't bear to abandon him to his enemies. She loved him. It was insane, and yet when she recalled an image of her face, the way _he_ viewed her, she couldn't help thinking about _his_ feelings for her.

"You can be very loud when you want to be," Akkarin mused, smiling crookedly. "I cannot imagine a magician alive strong enough to block your projected thoughts."

She groaned.

"In that case, I'd wager Regin found it very amusing when I forgot my magic back there," she sighed resignedly.

Akkarin chuckled.

"In retrospect," he admitted. "I do, too."

Sonea tried to elbow him in the ribs, but he dodged her blow easily.

"Are you sleepy yet?" he asked innocently.

Right on cue, she yawned expansively. Akkarin gave her a measuring look.

"That shirt requires mending," he decided.

Sonea looked down her front and blushed scarlet. There was a long tear in the middle of her chest, making her shirt much too low cut.

"Oh," she gulped.

Akkarin pulled his own shirt over his head and handed her the bundle of rough material.

"Put this on," he ordered. "I'll fix yours while you sleep."

"You?" she was incredulous.

Akkarin's eyes shone with amusement.

"I assure you Dakova never complained," he explained.

Sonea blinked, understanding.

"No peeking," she warned him.

Giving in to some theatric tendencies, Akkarin sighed dramatically and put his hands over his eyes.

Sonea watched him closely as she changed. When she was done, she grimaced. His shirt felt like an ugly tent hanging on her fragile frame.

"Ready," she tossed her shirt to him. He caught it easily.

Akkarin eyed her appreciatively, the corners of his mouth curling upwards.

"Balkan couldn't have provided us with a more hideous outfit, could he," he commented dryly.

Sonea barely registered his words. She was too busy staring at his bare chest. Nothing was left to imagination.

"What are you staring at?" he demanded self-consciously.

She shook her head jerkily. She couldn't tell him what his muscled torso made her feel deep inside.

Akkarin frowned.

"Go to sleep, Sonea," he sighed. And his sigh was so sad it made her heart ache.

She didn't argue with him this time. She curled into a tight ball and cramped into the small space of the hollow behind Akkarin. She closed her eyes and let sleep claim her.


	5. Shell Shock

**Disclaimer: Black Magician trilogy belongs to Trudi Canavan**

After the last picture from Sonea had faded away Rothen stood frozen, paralyzed by shock and grief. He wasn't responding for so long that the magicians grew worried about his health. When he finally thawed he went into a rage. Dannyl shuddered as he remembered. He admired Rothen's courage as he confronted every magician in the room that was guilty, in his eyes, of unfair and cruel treatment of Sonea. He suspected that one would have to be on a brink of madness to be quite so direct. The magicians gathered in the Night Room were so shaken by the recent mental communication that they took Rothen's criticism meekly, with their heads bowed. Even Lord Garrel, Regin's guardian, shrank with shame and guilt at Rothen's judgment of his character. Whatever the magicians had thought of Sonea after they had learned she had been using Black Magic, they didn't think she deserved to die. _Not in this way anyway, _Dannyl corrected himself. Now, that she was dead, killed by cruel Ichani in a foreign land that _they _had sent her to, the slum girl didn't seem quite so threatening anymore.

_A bit late, _Dannyl thought bitterly.

At long last, Rothen ran out of his charges. He cast a contemptuous look at the magicians around him and stormed out of the room. He left a ringing silence in his wake. It took the magicians several minutes to recover, and then, as one the magicians started _worrying _about Rothen.

_Their compassion was a new quality in the guild, _Dannyl reflected. _Such solidarity in the face of tragedy never happened before._

Administrator Lorlen sent for Lady Vinara in case Rothen needed medical assistance. Dannyl went to find his mentor. Lord Garrel, to everyone's astonishment, suggested that they should send summons to Rothen's son, Dorrien. And upon receiving approval, he hurried away in search of a messenger who would deliver a letter to the South Pass.

The nightly guild grounds were in uproar, magicians were hurrying to and fro, globe lights hovering over their heads like lampions during the festival in the capital of Vin. Dannyl didn't know what purpose each of them had, but he was sure that it was brought about by Rothen's outburst.

Dannyl found him in the ancient cemetery. His face was drawn with misery and his eyes were distant, unfocused. Dannyl put his hand on his mentor's arm.

"Rothen," he said quietly.

The older magician looked at him, his eyes sparkled with moisture.

"She's dead, Dannyl," he shuddered. "I didn't save her."

"You couldn't have done anything," Dannyl assured him. "None of us could."

They were silent for some time, staring into the darkness.

"Come, my friend," Dannyl said eventually. "You need to rest."

They returned to the Magicians' Quarters to find Lady Vinara waiting for them.

"Lord Rothen," she said softly. "Please, accept my deepest condolences and sympathies for your loss."

Rothen nodded.

"Thank you."

He opened his door and gestured for them to enter.

"Would you like some sumi?" he asked hoarsely.

Dannyl exchanged a glance with Lady Vinara. They shook their heads.

"I would like to examine you," Lady Vinara told him.

Dannyl tensed, wary of his mentor's reaction, but Rothen had no fire left in him. He nodded and waved for her to follow him into his bedroom.

Dannyl settled into a chair, waiting. Fifteen minutes later Lady Vinara returned, she met his gaze gravely.

"How is he?" Dannyl asked anxiously.

"He's fine," she told him. "I gave him nemmin. He's sleeping."

Dannyl heaved a sigh of relief.

"I thought he was losing his mind," he admitted.

Lady Vinara allowed herself a small smile.

"Yes," she sighed. "It appears to have been shock."

Dannyl chuckled darkly.

"That's too bad," he said. "If he was mad he wouldn't have to apologize later."

"Actually," her smile disappeared. "Almost everyone agrees that he was justified in his opinions."

Dannyl's eye brows rose in surprise.

"Yes," she stood up. "Ambassador Dannyl, I must ask you to remain here in case he wakes up."

"Of course," he said.

"I'll send Lord Yaldin later to change you."

Dannyl nodded his thanks. When she left he looked around for something that would occupy his troubled thoughts. He picked up a book of poetry he found on Rothen's shelf. This was the same book that he had given to Tayend for the scholar's birthday, _Songs of Kyralia _by Lord Ralo.

**Dear Ralobat, I sincerely hope you do not mind that I used the title of your fan fiction for my collection of poems. After all, your stories are a bit like poetry themselves.**

**I have some issues with the next few chapters so I might take longer updating next time.**

**Do you have any constructive criticism so far?**


	6. Menacing News

**Disclaimer: Black Magician trilogy belongs to Trudi Canavan**

As Cery refilled Savara's glass, she stiffened and stared into the distance.

"What is it?" he asked.

She blinked, her eyes focusing on his face.

"Your Guild has made its first good decision."

"Oh, really?"

She smiled.

"Orders to stop speaking mind to mind."

Cery drained his glass.

"Will that do them much good?"

"It might have, had they done it a week ago," she shrugged and picked up her glass. "But it is good the Ichani won't learn about the Guild's plans now."

"Neither will you."

She shrugged.

"No, but it doesn't matter anymore."

Cery considered her. She had put on a gloriously well-fitting dress made of soft, delicate material that left nothing to imagination. He followed the neckline with his eyes and sighed wistfully. He knew she was leaving, but it wouldn't be easy.

"Savara…"

Her eyes flashed up to meet his, her mouth a thin line.

"I cannot stay, Cery," she cut him off. "I must go. I must obey my people."

"I just…"

"No, stop, Cery," she interrupted. She stood up and began pacing the room. "I wish it wasn't so, but I must go. I delayed enough."

"Hai," Cery raised his hands to keep her silent. "Let me get a word in!"

Savara stopped pacing. She stared at him with weary eyes.

"I wish you could stay, but I will not ask you to stay," he told her, a worried frown creased his forehead. "We both have responsibilities to our people and our feelings cannot direct our actions."

She blinked, and nodded. Obviously, she was surprised at his maturity.

"I will miss you, Cerini of the Thieves," she told him, her throat tight.

"I'll miss you, too, Savara," he replied in a level voice.

They locked gazes and remained thusly for some time. Savara was the first to break eye contact. She looked at the floor.

"Well," she sighed dramatically. "I do not much like travelling by moon light."

Cery narrowed his eyes. A grin was threatening to break across his face.

"Few people enjoy that," he remarked, nodding.

Her mouth stretched into an alluring smile.

"It wouldn't hurt if I left a day late," she said.

Snorting with amusement, Cery climbed on his toes to kiss her. She bowed her head to make it easier for him. As they broke apart, he took her hand and led her into his bedroom.

"That gives me more time to thank you for your help," he told her on the way.

"Really?" she smiled slyly. "And how will you do that?"

Cery gave her a mischievous smile.

"You will just have to wait and see," he pulled the door closed behind them. "I don't want to ruin the surprise."

Cery was watching Savara, tracing her lips with his fingertip, so he immediately noticed the change of her expression. Her eyes flew open, wide and staring, and her features twisted with loathing.

"What is it?" he asked.

Savara put her hand over his mouth to keep him silent. Cery stared at her face, registering the horror and disgust there. Feeling sick and worried, he waited for her explanation.

For full ten minutes, Savara absorbed some unknown monstrosity, and he waited for her to recover. Finally, she heaved a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. They were wet.

"What is it?" he asked again.

She didn't reply. He waited, his stomach was fluttering uncomfortably.

"Savara?"

She swallowed hard.

"Parika," she whispered.

Cery blinked, uncomprehending.

"Who?"

Savara's eyes focused on his face at last. They were full of pity.

"An Ichani," she said unwillingly. "He captured her."

Cery felt chills run down his spine as he understood her meaning. _Sonea…_

**Thank you for your reviews. I cannot say if there are chances for a happy ending. Firstly, I'd ruin the story for you, and secondly, I have no clue. Yet. I can kind of see how the killing-off might be necessary to keep the story going. Enjoy reading. I'll update soon.**


	7. Administrator's Headache

**Disclaimer: BMT belongs to Trudi Canavan**

The aftermath of Sonea's mental communication made it impossible for Lorlen to get even a wink of sleep. Rothen's nervous collapse and the magicians' demands that he called a Meet gave him much to do in the short nightly hours. He wished he had Osen to help him with the upheaval, but his assistant was still stuck in the Fort with Lord Balkan and Akkarin's escort.

_Akkarin, _Lorlen mused. He needed to know, to be reassured. He put a hand into his pocket and slipped a ring onto his middle finger.

_Akkarin!_

Lorlen projected at the ring, but his only answer was silence. He had been trying to contact Akkarin through the ring ever since he put the ban on mental communication. He had tried to warn them, but it now appeared that he had failed.

_Akkarin! Answer me!_

A simmering anger at the edge of his thoughts was the only sign that Akkarin's patience was at an end. The former High Lord was well known for his dispassion, but even so, there were limits to everything. The effort he was putting into ignoring Lorlen had to be irksome.

_Akkarin, at last! _

He wasn't expecting the wave of relief which accompanied the realization that his old friend was alive.

_What do you want, Lorlen?_

He was annoyed. Lorlen swallowed hard. Of course he was, hadn't the Administrator been instrumental in the verdict which had led to Sonea's death?

_I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Akkarin. I knew there were other Black Magicians in Imardin, and yet I..._

_You cast us out._

Lorlen recoiled at the hostility of Akkarin's thoughts.

_We saw what happened, Akkarin. You must be devastated, but so are we. Rothen…_

There were no words. Lorlen let his thoughts skim over the experiences in the Night Room. He shuddered at the memory of a hollow, empty look in Rothen's eyes.

_Is that remorse?_

Akkarin's voice was harsh.

_Akkarin, I…_

Akkarin cut him off.

_Take off the ring, Lorlen. I won't be used as a balm for your troubled conscience. Get out of my head!_

Lorlen winced and removed the ring hastily. It was unnerving to discover that Akkarin was dead right. This realization came without a sugar coating, Akkarin was never one to present unpleasant truths in a better light to make the recipient feel more at ease._ Never Akkarin!_

Lorlen laughed without humour. He felt guilty and responsible for Sonea and Akkarin's fate, and he wanted consolation from Akkarin of all people, to be told that he understood and didn't blame him. But, of course, he wouldn't get it. He well knew that the King had made a mistake sending Akkarin and Sonea away, and the Guild was responsible because it did not object.

A knock at the door interrupted his musings. He looked up. He waved his hand, and the door swung open. The other Higher Magicians filed into his office. The bleary-eyed Lady Vinara graced him with a tight smile.

"You look tired, Administrator," she said.

That made him chuckle.

"Sit down, please," he told them. "I have something to show you."

He waited for them to settle into the chairs arrayed before his desk. When they looked at him expectantly, Lorlen put his hand in his pocket and brought out a silver ring with a large ruby.

Lord Sarrin sucked in a breath as he saw it.

"You know what that is," Lorlen observed.

"Yes," he breathed. "A blood gem. An artifact of Black Magic."

Lorlen smiled weakly.

"It enhances the mental communication between the maker and the wearer," he added. "The maker sees and hears whatever the wearer sees and hears. He also absorbs what the wearer thinks."

The Higher Magicians exchanged awed glances.

Lorlen nodded.

"Where did you get it?" Director Jerrik asked, eyeing the silver band as if it was a wild animal.

"From Akkarin," he admitted, his tone added the 'of course'. "He presented it to me after we disagreed over Sonea's guardianship."

The Head of Alchemists gasped.

"He spied on you?" Administrator Kito was appalled.

Lorlen sighed.

"Yes," he sighed. "Much as it disturbs me, I don't hold it against him, now, that I understand his reasons," he shook his head. "Also, I cannot deny that this ring is our only save means of contacting Akkarin."

"You are much too forgiving, Lorlen," the Head of Healers chided him.

Lorlen's shoulders lifted. He picked up the ring, his expression defensive.

"You want to continue using it?" Lord Peacon spluttered.

Administrator Kito frowned with disapproval.

"I already have," Lorlen replied coldly, but he set the ring down.

The Higher Magicians were shocked. All except Lady Vinara who met his gaze with interest.

"And?" she prompted.

Lorlen grimaced. He massaged his temples to ease a headache that had come up after the mental communication.

"He's alive," he sighed. "But angry."

"Angry?" Lord Telano echoed.

Lady Vinara gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Of course, he must be upset," she mused. "Does he blame us?"

"Blame _us?_" Expatriate Administrator exclaimed in outrage.

Lorlen shook his head.

"I don't think he _blames _anyone other than himself," he told them. "But he doesn't want others to burden him with their remorse as well. He doesn't want to talk to anyone," he sighed heavily.

Before the magicians could start discussing Akkarin's frame of mind, a rap at the door interrupted them. Surprised, Lorlen looked at the uniformed figure hesitating at the doorstep. A royal messenger. _Here we go…_

The young man bowed gracefully.

"Administrator," he spoke respectfully. "His Majesty King Merrin bids you return to the palace immediately."

Lorlen nodded.

"Thank you," he said, nodding. "I shall arrive promptly."

Lorlen looked out of the window. The dawn had come already.

"We will continue our discussion later," he told his fellow magicians.


	8. Not as Bad

**Disclaimer: BMT belongs to Trudi Canavan**

The night was a nightmare, only Cery didn't sleep. He lay on his back, his head pillowed in Savara's lap. She was tracing the frown lines of his face with her gentle fingers, but he barely noticed her attention. He kept seeing the horrors she had described for him. Exactly like a nightmare, but it was self-induced this time. Hadn't he coaxed it out of her? Every sickening detail? He was a thief; a ruthless member of the criminal underworld, and yet he couldn't stomach the pictures she described. Was that because she spoke of Sonea this time?

It had been hours since they spoke last, the silence was an eerie presence that weighed heavily on his conscience. She brushed his lips with her own.

"I am so sorry, Cery," she breathed against his skin.

Yet again. She was saying that every time the silence had grown unbearable. Apologizing, but Cery couldn't think of anything she might have done wrong.

A blissful interruption eventually arrived in the form of insistent rapping at the door. He sat up, his eyes wide.

"Who's that?" he demanded, his voice raw.

"It's me, Cery," Gol's grumpy drawl came through the door.

Cery looked briefly at Savara and then he sighed and started to dress.

"Stay here," he told her, gesturing at the bed.

Without a backward glance, he opened the door and left.

"What's that about?" he asked his second.

"High Lord's servant," Gol explained. "He wants to talk, says it's urgent."

Cery closed his eyes and groaned.

"I know what he wants to tell me," he muttered darkly. "Let's go."

They were silent as they traveled through the tunnels. Cery worked to calm himself so he would be able to play a farce of ignorance. His stomach turned at the thought that Tacan would want to tell him the same gruesome story again.

Finally, they arrived at the metal door guarded by two broad-armed men. Cery nodded to them, and they pulled the heavy door frame open. Gol followed him into the comfortable rooms that the Sachakan occupied.

Tacan was pacing in obvious agitation.

"What's up?" Cery asked innocently.

"Thief!" he was visibly relieved. "Akkarin spoke to me and told me to explain some things to you."

Cery raised his eye brows. He took a seat and folded his arms across his chest.

"Alright," he said, his charade perfect. "Go on, then."

The servant sat across from him, and started speaking about the Ichani and the nature of the conflict that Akkarin inadvertently provoked. He spoke of the war that was rapidly approaching, of the misconceptions of the Guild. Cery hoped that he was doing a good job playing surprise and concern. In reality, he was anxious for the bad news to come. The suspense was painful.

"You know that Akkarin and Sonea entered Sachaka yesterday?" the servant was getting to the point, Cery could tell. He braced himself.

He shuddered involuntarily. Not trusting his voice, he nodded.

"They were quite unlucky," Tacan said. _Nicely put, _Cery thought blackly. "The Ichani were waiting for them over the border. Sonea and Akkarin split up to avoid the trap," he lifted his shoulders, oddly unconcerned. "Unfortunately, one caught up with Lady Sonea…" he stiffened, noticing something in Cery's face. "Thief? Are you well?"

Cery cleared his throat. He was certain he had gone very pale. Tacan handed him a glass of wine and watched him anxiously.

"I'm fine," he replied hoarsely. "Go on."

"Forgive me, Thief," he said in genuine concern. "I spoke thoughtlessly. Of course, I should have started by saying that Sonea is in perfect health and save."

Cery inhaled the wine through his nose and started coughing. His guest started fussing about, thumping him on the back.

"What?" Cery wheezed, shocked.

Tacan regarded him thoughtfully. Obviously, his reaction wasn't something the servant expected. Finally, he continued.

"Lady Sonea was in a panic, understandably, and she began projecting her situation for Akkarin," he paused, his eyes shifting to the distance. "Mind communication isn't private so her struggles were witnessed by other magicians," he narrowed his eyes at Cery. "Sonea stopped projecting when she thought she would be killed. That is why the Guild is convinced she is dead," Tacan's features were tight with suspicion. "And, you had the same misconception, too. _I _think."

Cery recoiled. Had he been that obvious? Tacan folded his arms, waiting for an explanation, but Cery remained unmoved. His face hardened into a fierce scowl. The servant was a guest and he should remember that.

"So, she's not dead," he said forcefully. "That's a relief."

Tacan regarded him closely for a long moment, but then he relaxed and sighed.

"Yes," he said. "That is why Akkarin would like you to do him a favour."

"Oh? What's that?"

Tacan explained Akkarin's predicament and his plans. Cery's eyes widened in interest and excitement.

"I can do that," he said, grinning.

The servant's lips curved upwards, his eyes glittered mischievously.

**Thank you again for your reviews. I hope you don't mind another Cery chapter so soon. I wanted to keep the timeline correct without back flashes and the like. Merry Christmas to you all!**


	9. A Letter

**Disclaimer: BMT belongs to Trudi Canavan**

Rothen's head was pounding unbearably.

"Uh," he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. He knew that pain; he had overdosed nemmen. Struggling to focus, he sent his mind into his body and applied some healing energy to the raw tissues. He sighed in relief as the pain receded.

"That's better," he muttered, but as soon as he was able to collect his bearings the memories from the previous night flooded his thoughts and he wished for the blessed oblivion of drug-induced slumber.

"Sonea…" there was no escaping the terrible reality.

Rothen opened his eyes. The grey light that penetrated the paper window screens indicated that dawn was approaching. _Sonea would be rising at this time… _He blinked furiously, he had to regain some measure of control over himself.

As he rolled to a sitting position, a wave of vertigo overtook his senses. He should report this reaction to a healer, but he knew he wouldn't. Rothen needed the drug or he would have to give up sleeping altogether. Vinara would realize he had been using nemmen for a longer period than he admitted. He rose and approached his wardrobe. He had to function somehow. Maybe it would be easier if he concentrated on his daily chores and pushed the reality to the back of his mind for later examination. He donned on fresh robes and entered his guest room.

_A cup of sumi, _he thought wistfully, remembering Sonea's distaste for the drink. He shivered, failing once again to stay clear of the dangerous territory in his mind. Before he could sink into misery again a growling noise made him stop.

Rothen peered into the murky half-light in the room and frowned. Yaldin was slumped in one of his cushioned armchairs. He was snoring loudly, his head lolling backwards and his mouth agape.

_So, _Rothen grimaced at the elderly man. _He's keeping an eye on me, is he?_

He considered whether he should rouse his friend and send him to his bed or let him be for the moment, they could share a cup of morning sumi to start the day, but before he could make up his mind a timid tap at the door caught his attention. Frowning, he turned to face the door. Who would visit him at this hour of the morning? Even his servant didn't usually arrive until much later.

Worried, Rothen sent a little magic at the door. It swung open revealing the dark corridor of the Magicians' Quarters. It was peaceful and deserted. Baffled, Rothen went out to the landing and created a globe light to make the darkness retreat. Neither on his floor nor on the floor below a living soul could be found however.

He returned to his apartment, concerned that he was suffering from hallucinations now. He was closing the door when a whiteness caught his eye. Looking at the floor, he drew in a startled breath. There was an envelope at his threshold. He picked it up and retreated into his private rooms.

The letter was addressed to a _Lord Rothen of the Magicians' Guild. _The handwriting was unfamiliar.

Feeling the stirrings of excitement, he tore it open and brought out a folded sheet of paper. Straightening it out, he stared in astonishment at a rough sketch of an animal. Had he fallen a victim to some childish prank?

Trying to make sense of this strange correspondence, Rothen scrutinized the drawing. What kind of animal could that be? Some kind of a rodent maybe?

Rothen caught his breath.

"Ceryni," he breathed in awed recognition.

**Hi there! I am happy to say that I finally resolved some plot issues, and the action should progress much faster from now on. I hope you'll enjoy my approach which will go along different avenues than Trudi.**


	10. Unpleasant Awakening

**Disclaimer: BMT belongs to Trudi Canavan**

Suddenly, the peaceful and welcoming library transformed into a tiny boat lost on an angry ocean and the grinning face of Tayend changed into an oversized grim sea leech. Furious waves beat the sides of the vessel making it rock dizzyingly. A bolt of lighting struck across the night sky, a roaring sound of wind made Dannyl roll in discomfort.

A thumping noise continued. Dannyl put his pillow over his face, but there was no returning to sleep now. As his senses focused, he became conscious of some insistent pounding coming from the other room. And the sound of anxious voices. _At the door?_

"What now!"

Dannyl opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his bedroom. He yawned. He couldn't have slept very long. Unwillingly, he rose to his feet and started looking for a dressing gown. His room was messy so it took some time.

"I'm coming!" he shouted before his visitor could destroy his door.

He put on the garment and proceeded to the main door. With a flicker of will he disentangled the magical lock and let the door slide inward.

"Ambassador Dannyl," he winced at the high-pitched voice of the distraught servant.

"Tania? What…?" he stopped talking as she burst into sobs. He patted her arm.

"Rothen disappeared," another voice explained.

Dannyl looked up. Yaldin met his gaze with a frown of worry.

"Disappeared?" he found himself saying. "How is that possible?"

Yaldin hung his head in obvious shame.

"I dozed off," he admitted. "He must have slipped away when I was asleep."

Dannyl frowned.

"Come in," he said, and waved them in. "Make yourselves comfortable while I find some robes," he cast a doubtful look at the clutter in the room before he escaped into his bedroom.

He dressed hurriedly to the accompaniment of Tania's crying and Yaldin's failed attempts at consolation.

"Did you try calling him?" Dannyl asked when he emerged.

Yaldin blinked, and shook his head.

"There's the ban," he reminded him.

Dannyl rolled his eyes at the old magician.

"Wouldn't you say it fits the term 'emergency' exactly?" he asked sarcastically.

_Rothen!_

As he sent out his call Dannyl became aware of other magicians' minds concentrating on his communication in curiosity and alarm. It appeared that the good manners no longer applied in regards to mental conversations of magicians.

_Dannyl? What's wrong?_

That was Administrator Lorlen. Waves of concern and anxiety radiated from him.

_Rothen is missing._

Lorlen mulled it over for a minute.

_Cease the mental communication, please. I shall consult with you after I return. Meanwhile, you should attend to your duties regarding the rebels._

_The hearing… Right…_

Dannyl opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows.

"Where did Lorlen go?" he asked, his mood darkening.

Yaldin shrugged his shoulders.

"I wouldn't know, would I?"

Of course not. He was out of the loop, just as him. Dannyl tried to collect his thoughts and decide how to proceed next. Lorlen was right, he couldn't set out in search of his former mentor before the rogues were dealt with. It was his duty as Ambassador to stand by Ferrand and his fellow rebels and lend his support and expertise during the proceedings.

Tania sniffed. Dannyl looked at her, and forced a smile onto his face.

"We'll find him, Tania," he assured her. He looked at his elderly friend. "Could Ezrille stay in Rothen's rooms? In case he returns?"

Yaldin nodded.

"Well, then," he sighed. "I'd better go and see Administrator Kito about the hearing, I'll see you later."

The three of them filed into the corridor and Dannyl continued on out of the Magicians' Quarters. He strode into the chilly grounds, his mind filled with thoughts of the new mystery of Rothen's disappearance.

"Ambassador Dannyl," a voice called out.

He looked around seeking its owner. A young man was hurrying towards him from the University. It was the architecture and construction teacher, Lord Larkin. Dannyl met him in half way.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I just wish to inform you that I saw Rothen early this morning," he said.

Dannyl blinked in surprise.

"Where?"

"Here, in the grounds," he shrugged. "I believe he was headed towards the main gates. I'm sorry but I didn't think to stop or question him."

_Of course not, _Dannyl thought.

"Thank you for informing me," he said, frowning in perplexity. "I will talk to the gate guards, maybe they know something."

Lord Larkin nodded and watched as Dannyl went away in the direction of the gates.

_Rothen, _he sighed, _where were you going…_


	11. Rebelious

**Disclaimer: BMT belongs to Trudi Canavan**

Sonea first became aware of a nagging hunger and a dull pain of cramped muscles. She concentrated on her source of power and applied some healing energy to the most affected regions. She didn't want to wake quite yet, she was still too tired. A melancholy sigh was enough to bring her to wakefulness fully, however. Her eyes fluttered open. Akkarin was a dark silhouette outlined against bright sunlight.

_A day…_

Sonea blinked, trying to see. He turned his head slightly to stare at her, his mouth curled into a crooked smile that was so rare these days. He didn't notice she was awake yet, and she didn't want to ruin the moment so she remained still, watching him. After a short while Akkarin's features twisted into a frown of worry and frustration, and he sighed again. Sonea mimicked him.

His eyes snapped to meet hers, his expression disapproving.

"So," he said coolly. "You're awake at last!"

Sonea's eyes narrowed with annoyance.

"Yes," she retorted. "Have you slept?" she asked with a hint of irony. "My aunt used to say that men are particularly irritating when deprived of sleep. My, turns out she was right!"

Akkarin's face went blank with surprise, but he quickly recovered and put on his reserved mask.

"I kept watch," he pointed out.

Sonea blushed.

"We should watch in turns," she offered.

Akkarin ignored her.

"Get up," he ordered. "I want to move on."

She snorted at his manner, but she didn't argue. The roof of the little cave was very low so she had to stoop to get to his side. When she was finally able to stand straight, Sonea glanced at his bare back unable to contain a thrill of curiosity and anticipation. The night before was too dark to see properly... She didn't really believe he would repair her shirt. What would he do now?

As her eyes ran over Akkarin's muscled back, Sonea sucked in a horrified breath as she beheld the long scars there, her mouth was hanging wide open. Akkarin turned to see what had upset her. As he read her expression, his face hardened.

"Whipping is a common punishment for a slave, Sonea," he told her bluntly. "So ordinary that it's cliché."

She was nauseous. There wasn't even a millimeter of smooth flesh left, as if the skin of his back was made up entirely of crisscrossing reddish lines. How could any person withstand so much abuse and yet live?

Sonea looked at Akkarin, her wide eyes expressed shock and revulsion. He regarded her for some time and as he did, his face changed. He was clearly displeased that he had allowed her to see this remainder of his past. His mouth twisted and he shrugged defensively. He bent down to pick up her mended shirt.

"I think it's time I got my shirt back," he said in a dry voice.

She nodded and took the shirt from him, her hands were shaking badly. He looked away as she began to change. It took longer than usual, but finally she managed to strip despite her fumbling fingers and put on her own shirt. It was perfect, not even a loose thread to mark the damage.

"Thank you," she exclaimed in astonishment.

His eyebrows rose at her tone.

"You are welcome," he returned wryly.

He took his thick shirt from her hands and covered the hideous brands across his back. She shuddered. She was grateful that they were gone from sight at least.

"Are you hungry?" Akkarin asked.

Sonea nodded, her eyes glued to the cavern floor, embarrassed all of a sudden.

"Time to go, then."

"What about the Ichani?" she asked, looking up in alarm. "Won't they see us?"

The corners of his mouth curved upwards.

"They won't expect us to go that way," he said, cryptic as ever.

They levitated across the deep ravines, but Akkarin was soon able to set them down on the steep slope of the mountain. Sonea was amazed as she beheld the view; miles upon miles of desolate landscape stretched before them.

As he led the way up the treacherous ground, he instructed how she should behave to stay out of sight of the watching eyes above and below. She was trying to pay attention to his words, but it was difficult. The arduous climb occupied most of her concentration, and if any part of her mind was free to ponder it kept returning to the things she glimpsed earlier and his obvious anger at her shocked reaction. She knew he despised her pity.

The sun was long past the highest point in the sky when her hunger became impossible to ignore any longer. Sonea hurried her steps to catch up with Akkarin's longer strides.

"Isn't that time for breakfast yet? Or should I say lunch?" she asked him incredulously.

He looked at her, amused.

"There's nothing edible here so it doesn't matter," he remarked mildly.

Sonea groaned. Fortunately, there was plenty of running water in the rock crevices, else they'd long be dehydrated. As it was, they at least were able to replace water they were constantly sweating out.

"Where are we going, anyway?" she panted. She was already sick of walking, walking, walking. Sonea longed for a rest.

Akkarin slowed and gazed thoughtfully into the horizon. He was silent for so long that Sonea began wondering if he would ever deign to respond. Eventually, he looked at her.

"_You_ are returning to the Fort," he said with command in his voice.

Sonea skidded to a halt. His words were like cracking of ice. She looked in the direction he was looking, and squinted. In the distance, she could make out a grayish shape of the Fort tucked between two mountains.

"What?" she gasped, aghast.

"They will welcome you with open arms," he added in the same voice.

Sonea shook her head, unable to make sense of his words. Why would the Guild want her back? Hadn't she defied the magicians and the king? Besides, what would be the point of her returning to Kyralia while he'd be left alone among his enemies? Hadn't she made it clear that she wouldn't abandon him back when Lord Osen kept pestering her?

Sonea scowled.

"I don't care," she declared hotly. "I'll go back when you do."

Akkarin regarded her in disapproval.

"Because?"

Sonea bit her lip.

"You need me," she said defensively.

"Really?" his voice turned mocking. "I don't need a disobedient, half-trained novice to protect."

Disobedient? That stung. Sonea glared at him defiantly. If he wanted disobedience she would give it to him!

"Protect?" she retorted sarcastically. "If I recall correctly, you didn't prove too effective yesterday."

Her words were unfair, but she didn't care at the moment. Akkarin winced as if she had slapped him, he obviously agreed with her. He was an inept protector. Mercilessly, she went on.

"In fact, it seems to me that I'm saving _you _much more frequently, isn't that odd!"

"Sonea," he murmured when it seemed her rant was over.

She ignored him. She didn't seem aware that her voice was echoing off the stone walls loudly.

"You know what," she snapped. "If it's such a bother to have me around, I'll just go my own way, _High Lord!_"

Sonea turned on her heels and stalked off down the mountainside. The terrain wasn't ideal for her current mood. She wished she could make a dramatic retreat, but instead she was forced to watch her every step to avoid falling to her death. It was frustratingly slow! After several hundred paces her fury began to ebb and she felt guilty and ashamed of her outburst. And angry. How dared he imply that she could scamper off back to the magicians who had sentenced him to die without a second thought?

Eventually, she calmed down enough to catch the faint sounds of pursuit behind her. She heaved a sigh and slowed. Soon after that, he caught up with her.

"Sonea," he tried again. His voice lost its chilliness. It was sincere and apologetic now. The difference was jarring. "I shouldn't have ordered you about, I'm sorry."

Sonea looked at him.

"And?"

Akkarin blinked in confusion. Obviously, he was completely missing the point.

"And you will do as you wish, of course, but I'd very much like it if you considered going back. Rothen thinks you're dead. He's devastated and,-"

Sonea glowered.

"Stop that," she said flatly. "Rothen will be fine. Unlike you, if you continue preying on my sympathies. I wish you'd just respect my choices!"

He closed his eyes.

"You are as stubborn as I learned to expect," he remarked, smiling wryly. "Let's find some food, shall we? Or were you serious about leaving me to my own faculties? You have rightly said I require saving much more than you."

"I thought there was nothing edible here," Sonea reminded him.

"Not on the ground," Akkarin grinned.

She was bemused.

"Where, then?"

His eyes twinkled in mischief.

"Do you like poultry?" he asked innocently.


	12. Suspicions

**How did you like rebellious Sonea in the last chapter? I could never understand why she was so meekly accepting of Regin's harassment and later Akkarin's blackmail and treatment. I really wanted her defiance.**

**Disclaimer: BMT belongs to Trudi Canavan**

Lorlen opened his eyes and met the anxious gaze of Kyralia's ruler.

"What now?" the king demanded in dismay.

Lorlen sighed and shook his head.

"Only an emergency at the Guild, Your Majesty," he explained quickly. "One of the magicians, Lord Rothen, went missing this morning. His friends were concerned as he has suffered a mental collapse in the recent hours. They tried to contact him."

The king's face cleared as he considered the news. Lorlen felt a pang of guilt as he thought of Rothen, as Administrator of the Guild he should have helped him convince Sonea to stay here. But would she have listened? He couldn't erase from his memory the angry look she had on her face when they had offered her a lesser punishment while sentencing her guardian to exile in enemy land, her bold defiance. No, she wouldn't have changed her mind if he had begged her on bended knees. Sonea understood that Sachaka was a death trap, but she consciously chose to risk that rather than live in the temporary safety of the Guild, among the blind and the cowardly. Lorlen felt sick to the core.

"Ah, he was the slum girl's first guardian, was he not," the king remarked after a stretch of silence. "I pity the poor man, what do you plan to do, Administrator?"

Lorlen lifted his shoulders.

"I cannot allow mental communication to continue, nor can I send a search party after him," he inhaled deeply. "In the present situation we may do little but hope he'll return safely."

The monarch nodded with understanding.

"And what of Akkarin?"

Lorlen looked at the painted floor tiles. What he had to say wouldn't be well-received, he expected.

"I spoke to Akkarin," the king's features transformed in alarm. Lorlen hurried on to explain about the blood ring. The sharp mind of the ruler seemed to pick out the slight hesitation in Lorlen's excuse as to why he had concealed his prior knowledge of the artifact's existence, but he let that be for the time's being. "I believe he is too upset to be reasoned with."

King Merrin frowned as he pondered the Administrator's words. He looked out of the high window of the palace north tower and observed the tiny Imardians going about their business.

"Your words are testament enough to the warm feelings that still linger in you," he said softly. "I understand that. You want to trust him despite his questionable deeds," he fixed Lorlen with a piercing stare.

"We know Akkarin spoke the truth, Your Majesty," he said in self-defense.

The king's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Do we," he was full of doubt. "It is certainly confirmed that Sachacan Black Magicians exist, but are they Akkarin's enemies or allies? They murdered his novice, not him after all."

The implied meaning of what the king suggested struck Lorlen like a blow. He shook his head in denial. He would not believe that. Akkarin was not so callous. Or was he? The memory of Akkarin forcing entry into his mind flashed through his mind.

"No!" he was horrified. "Your Majesty believes it was all pre-arranged?" Lorlen's voice was strangled. "That Akkarin planned for Sonea's death?"

"That makes sense," one of the king's advisors observed dryly. "She had the knowledge and the skills that made her a threat if she discovered his story was a ruse. He needed her gone."

Lorlen swayed alarmingly and had to grab the window sill for support.

"But he advised her!" he insisted desperately. "During the battle, he broke through her panic!"

Captain Arrynd gave Lorlen a direct look.

"How else could he convince us of his honesty?" he pointed out. "He must have known she'd lose either way."

King Merrin raised his hands to halt the further discussion.

"Administrator Lorlen, I do not like this possibility any better than you, but I must accept that it cannot be eliminated fully. We shall take the necessary precautions in case Akkarin proves to be a-," he hesitated a moment, after inhaling deeply the young king persevered. "A traitor and we face an invasion led by the former High Lord."

The air in Lorlen's lungs seemed to congeal at every word uttered by the monarch. It couldn't be the truth.

"Precautions?" he forced out.

The king eyed the Administrator with burning intensity.

"For a start, I must order you not to contact Akkarin from now on," he decreed. "Through the ring or by other means."

Lorlen heaved a sigh and nodded respectfully.

"As you say, Your Majesty," he agreed unwillingly.

The king nodded in approval.

"Another thing is a Black Magician of our own so that we may confront the approaching threat. Akkarin's books should be enough to gain the required knowledge, I was told," he went on. "You will oversee the choosing of a suitable candidate to that role. The sooner he or she succeeds, the better to us all."

So it was decided, then. Lorlen felt a great weight burden his soul. The magicians under his command were to relearn Black Magic which even Akkarin described as evil.

"I shall call the Meet to make that decision as soon as Lord Balkan returns from the Fort," he said gravely.


	13. 13 Agreement

Sonea was fuming. She was sitting with her back against a huge boulder, her fingertips twitched involuntarily as she watched Akkarin pacing restlessly. The sun traveled across the clear blue of the sky.

In the last four days she and Akkarin had traversed the unwelcoming mountainous terrain in the area parallel to the North Pass and the Fort. Despite Akkarin's earlier assertion that the Ichani wouldn't expect them to stay so close to the pass, they soon encountered signs of the Sachacans' passage and camps. This discovery disturbed Akkarin, he began to suspect that these tracks weren't of the Ichani looking for them, but of a greater force preparing to invade Kyralia. That forced them to detour around and only travel under the cover of darkness.

One day, they narrowly avoided being seen by a slave picking berries in a valley they stopped at for the day. After that they moved higher up to escape detection. While lower down the summer was in full bloom, so high up the winter still reigned. Sonea was miserable; it was freezing and wet. Akkarin cautioned her against using any magic. He said they ought to conserve their strength as much as possible. She could understand the wisdom of that, but she started to resent his unflinching determination when they stumbled upon a raging blizzard. She dreamed about hot, steaming baths she used to enjoy at the Guild. He laughed when she mentioned that to him.

The night after they argued over Sonea's return to the Fort, she wanted to give him the power she had regained that day. He refused at first, saying that it would make little difference. It led to another heated discussion which was resolved only after she had threatened him that she would drench him with stagnant, smelly water from the slough nearby. After she had attacked him with a barrage of magically-directed snowballs during the snow storm (to warm up, of course), he couldn't have any doubt that she wouldn't hesitate to use magic for that purpose. Sonea discovered that the best way to make him be somewhat reasonable was to provoke him with some silly prank that would make him forget their situation. Akkarin accepted her power, in the thrill of victory she gave too much. He sent her to sleep with a mischievous smile. Sonea hurried to remind him that he should wake her up when it was her turn to keep watch.

In the morning Sonea came to realize that she would have to fight for every tiny thing. She was furious, the first thing she did was confront him about his contrary attitude. He offered her a few pathetic excuses that made her roll her eyes in disbelief. Eventually, she took pity on him, Akkarin looked haggard and exhausted. Sonea resolved that she would take the first watch on the next stop to ensure he got some sleep. That was the day they had to return to nocturnal activity. By then, Sonea's climbing skills improved to the point where she didn't lag behind so much anymore. Traveling in silence was menacing and grim so she tried to engage him in conversation about carefree times in Kyralia, but his mood was too dark for that type of chatter.

She tried not to imagine what thoughts made him frown so much. What did he fear would happen to them?

At first light they decided to make camp. Sonea gave him her power, but this time she took care not to exhaust herself. She needed strength to stay awake. Akkarin stared at her in confusion as she sat cross-legged under an outcropping of rock they stopped by. She explained that she would keep watch while he slept.

"Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary," he told her stiffly.

Sonea ignored him. She folded her arms as a sign that she wouldn't be argued with. The healers at the Guild constantly warned the novices of the dangers of using magic to stay awake for too long. She was going to insist that he rested.

Instead, he folded into a ball beside her, wrapped his arms around his knees and stared into the distance with haunted eyes. He was brooding in silence for maybe half an hour, then he shook his head to throw off creeping drowsiness and started talking. Akkarin told her about his days as a novice, of the pranks that he and Lorlen had played on their teachers and classmates.

"That reminds me of Regin a lot," Sonea observed at one point.

He found that extremely amusing.

"Lorlen would surely agree," he remarked.

On demand, she recounted a few of her more daring adventures in Harrin's gang. When she told him that she had stopped hanging out with Cery and the others because her aunt had convinced her that honesty was valuable his face drained of all humour,

"And here you are, a lawless outcast," he said bitterly. "Because of what I did to you."

Although she tried to reject his guilt, to convince him that she had no regrets and that she was proud of him, and of herself as his companion and helper the lighter atmosphere was gone. At noon he took over the watch. She was appalled that she had fallen for his trick. He talked his way out of sleeping with his funny anecdotes. She couldn't believe she actually provided some fire to this venture. Unwillingly, she gave in to her own weariness.

After more than a week without any serious sleep (she supposed he had dozed on horseback just as she had done) Akkarin was barely himself. Sonea suspected she was seeing the first symptoms of his healing powers failing to diminish his overwhelming mental fatigue. He was slow and irritable. Sonea preferred to stay out of his way for the moment. The sky was overcast, without the moon to guide their way every step was precarious. Once, Sonea suggested they stopped and waited until it got a little lighter, but Akkarin refused. She couldn't help thinking that he was afraid he would fall unconscious the moment he no longer needed to put one foot before the other. Sonea couldn't make sense of his struggles. Didn't he trust her?

Somehow, they avoided falling to their deaths, stumbling along the steep ridge in the blackest hours of the night. At first light Sonea halted, Akkarin looked at her fierce expression in obvious dismay. He must have realized she wouldn't be swayed. After giving him her power, she sat against a stone boulder and glowered at him as he paced to and fro before her eyes.

"Are you afraid I would betray you to the Ichani?" Sonea finally exploded. "Is that it?"

Akkarin paused, he blinked at her in genuine shock. His eyes almost failed to open again.

"Of course not," he sighed tiredly. "What makes you think that?"

Sonea shrugged.

"You're making yourself sick, Akkarin," she said, her voice rang out with worry and concern. "I'll keep us safe, I promise. You don't have to resist sleep," her eyes burned earnestly. "You can trust me."

Akkarin's brows knitted together.

"I trust you, Sonea," he said quietly. "As no one else."

She looked into his eyes. He seemed very vulnerable and defenseless as he met her gaze. He stood lost in thought for the longest time, but eventually he sighed in defeat and looked away.

"Ah, you're right," he muttered.

He took position against the same boulder, just a few paces away from her. He leaned his head back, sighed and closed his eyes. It took only seconds before his breathing became deep and measured, and his face relaxed. _At last, _Sonea thought in relief as she watched him sleep after so long.

The peaceful and serene atmosphere brought about by Akkarin's capitulation didn't last as long as Sonea would wish. After a mere couple of hours Akkarin moaned. His face became tense, his eyes roved uneasily under his closed eye lids. An expression of pain and fear twisted his features.

_A nightmare, _Sonea realized with dismay. Suddenly, she understood that his resistance didn't have anything to do with her or their enemies in the real world. Unfortunately, Sonea could do little to protect him from the wraiths of his unconscious mind. Should she wake him? She watched his anguished face, unsure of what to do.

Then, Akkarin shuddered violently and his eyes snapped open, wide and haunted. He saw her watching him anxiously and his face hardened.

"Sonea," he said darkly.

"Yes?" she asked apprehensively.

She was afraid of talking to him in this situation. It was so clear in his expression when he woke up that he hated her witnessing these signs of weakness. However, he wanted to discuss a different topic.

"We cannot delay any longer," he muttered darkly. "We must return to Kyralia."

Sonea stared at him in surprise.

"Has the Guild called you back?" she asked doubtfully.

Akkarin frowned and shook his head.

"No," he sighed. "But if we wait, we may lose our chance to reach Imardin before the Ichani do."

Her eyes became round.

"How will we get past the Fort though?"

He smiled wistfully.

"That would be impossible," he said with conviction. "However, the South Pass isn't guarded, we'll go there."

"And the Ichani?"

Akkarin's face grew serious.

"From the tracks we've seen, they intend to attack the Fort," he muttered.

Sonea drew in a horrified breath.

"And they don't know!"

"What is worse, Lorlen stopped using the ring so I cannot warn him. That worries me, he isn't the sort of person to hold grudges, but now it seems he started."

"Hold grudges?" Sonea hissed, her mind filling with scenarios. "What did you do?"

Akkarin blinked at her innocently, surprised at her tone.

"I don't think I was overly offensive," he said dryly. "I merely refused to console his troubled heart after your fight with the Ichani. He still believes you're dead. They all do. Except of Rothen, of course."

"Rothen?" she asked in confusion. "What of Rothen?"

Akkarin chuckled.

"Ah, I didn't tell you," he remarked. "After my conversation with Lorlen, I decided to let your mentor know that you were fine," he grimaced. "I've caused him enough grief already."

Sonea was touched.

"Thank you," she said thickly.

Akkarin regarded her solemnly.

"Don't go weepy on me," he teased.

She blinked, trying to keep the sudden moisture in her eyes from spilling over.

"Me? Weepy?" she sniffed.

Akkarin's mouth curved upwards at one corner. He leaned closer to her, and wiped a trickle of tears from her cheeks with his fingers. As he did, he cupped her cheek in his palm, his warm touch sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. They stared at each other, transfixed in this moment of closeness. Sonea's eyes were bright, and her desires were mirrored on his face. Her mind shut off, she couldn't think. Everything was consumed by unbearable longing. They were only inches apart, and she loathed the distance between them. It happened without a conscious command; her lips pressed against his, and she closed her eyes in contentment. A hand on her cheek tightened, and his breath came out in a moan of pleasure. It was bliss and madness at the same time as their lips moved in synchronization.

After a moment, Akkarin pushed her face away.

"Stop. Stop this," he breathed, his lips trembled. His hands gripped her arms tightly to stop her moving any closer.

"Why?" Sonea asked breathlessly. Her heart was hammering in her chest.

He frowned.

"This is wrong," he closed his eyes.

Sonea sighed and leaned back against the rough stone. He let her go, as if she was a poisonous reptile. She needed a moment to gain control of her unleashed emotions, and it appeared that Akkarin was similarly affected. They sat in loaded silence, glaring in opposite directions.

"Get some sleep, Sonea," he ordered eventually.

She looked up, his face was an emotionless mask. She schooled her own face into a serene expression.

"I wish to discuss something first," she said formally.

Akkarin looked at her sharply.

"And that is?"

Sonea hesitated a moment. Was she brave enough? She took a deep breath and plundered on.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," she confessed and watched his eyes grow wide and wary. She hurried on before her nerve could fail. "And I think that is true for both of us."

Akkarin turned into a statue of marble, he grew so still. Sonea waited for him to say something, but his only reaction was silence. Did she read him wrong? No, the longing and desire she glimpsed in his eyes couldn't be false. She crouched before him, trying to peer into his eyes. He avoided her gaze.

"Akkarin?" she whispered. "Am I wrong?"

He frowned, his forehead lined in worry, but he didn't respond.

Sonea folded her arms across her chest and sighed.

"I didn't think so," she shook her head and laughed self-consciously. "So, what do you suggest we do in this situation? I don't see why we should hold back."

She was gratified to see how his eyes bulged in astonishment at her implied meaning.

"Yes, we feel for each other," he said in a hard voice, regarding her with chilly eyes. "But there's more to consider."

Sonea raised her eye brows.

"Such as?"

"I'm too old for you," he said predictably.

It was such a weak argument that Sonea snorted in derision.

"Women in the houses are married off to older men all the time," she reminded him.

Akkarin grimaced, obviously struggling to come up with something more convincing.

"I'm your guardian," he declared soberly.

Sonea grinned.

"Not anymore," she pointed out.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"But if we go back…"

"Will we cause a scandal?" she chuckled. "I'd say they're getting used to that."

Akkarin frowned.

"That wouldn't be fair to you," he mumbled darkly.

Sonea sighed.

"Akkarin of Delvin, you are impossibly obstinate," she said crossly. "Especially when you know you're wrong."

He blinked innocently.

"Me?" his lips curled into a playful smile, an expression absent from his features for years. "Well, if anything, we should wash first."

Sonea sniffed and grimaced.

"Good point," she agreed.


End file.
